Page 57 of Craving Consequences

With a final peek at Van, she takes a step back. Then another. On the third, she turns on her heels and hurries inside, and I’m relieved she doesn’t glance back when the door closes behind her. I honestly don’t think I’m strong enough not to follow her.

We have her bag, I note vaguely as Van returns to his seat. It’s still in the backseat, but I say nothing as I pull out of the driveway.

We don’t speak. What can we possibly say that the other isn’t already feeling? The anger and longing is a weighted force choking the air. All we can do is do what we said we would do and hurry back to her.

“Shit,” Van breathes as I turn down our street and we both spot it.

The bright, cherry red Escalade parked in my driveway.

Bron.

The bile in my stomach churns at the thought of my son. It’s not guilt. Not this time. It’s irritation dosed heavily with disgust.

I may not have been a good dad. I failed him and Ashley a lot. But I did my best. I tried to be there for him every chance I could, but every attempt was met with hatred. Resentment and a deep loathing I realize now I can’t fix. It doesn’t matter how hard I fight to win him over .

But I’m done fighting. I’m done trying to appease a grown man behaving like a spoiled, entitled brat. Van’s right, I need to do what’s best for both of us, even if it’s the final nail in our coffin.

“Want me to come with?”

I shake my head, never slowing as I drive past to Van’s house. “I’ll grab you in ten,” I tell him. “I’m fine,” I add when he continues to stare at me. “Ten.”

He seems uncertain but hops out when I pull up at the end of his driveway. His hesitation is understandable, but he resigns with a short nod before shutting the door and stepping back.

With a wave, I pull out and head back to face my kid.

In my driveway, I kill the engine and sit for a second to just stare at the front of my own damn house.

It’s been the same house my parents brought me to when I was sixteen.

The same house I brought Bron and Ashley to.

The same house I really saw Everly for the first time.

A lot of shit happened between those walls.

Lost my mom. Then my dad three years later.

I lost my wife and kid. Held Everly for the first time through the night.

So much good and bad. Still, it’s the sight of the red SUV darkening my driveway that has dread curdling in my gut.

Somewhere at the back of my mind, I know I shouldn’t feel trepidation coming home or seeing my son.

I shouldn’t want to turn around and leave.

I get that I wasn’t the best father in the world.

That, maybe, I could have done better, but I did my best. I worked my ass off.

I provided. I gave Bron everything he needed.

I was there when Ashley decided having a grown kid around her house was cramping her dating life and kicked him out.

I was there when he decided to become a real estate agent and needed money.

I supported him with everything I possibly could without question or pushback.

And still it’s never been enough. It seems the more I do for him, the more he hates me and I just can’t do it anymore. Maybe it makes me weak for not putting my foot down sooner, but his actions at Everly’s house the day before was the final straw. I’m not doing this any more.

Resigned and needing to get this over with, I climb out and head inside.

The silence is infinite. It stretches into every corner, a tangible force I can almost taste — like copper pennies at the back of my throat. I swallow it as I ascend the stairs and pause at the landing.

Bron’s door is open.

That never happens, yet it’s cracked wide like a threat and all I can think of is Everly standing in the doorway, damp from the rain as she fell to her knees and sucked my cock. Took my cock. Rode me.

I have to shake memories of her wet heat enveloping me aside as I move to stand on the threshold .

He’s on his bed, arms folded on the pillow beneath his head, brown eyes fixed on the ceiling.

It’s taking all my strength not to eye the rumpled sheets bunched beneath him.

Sheets drenched in sweat and cum. Can he smell Everly?

Because I can. I don’t know if it’s because my brain is full of her or if she’s actually in the air, but . .. does he even know her scent?

“When did you get out?” I ask, needing to start somewhere.

His gaze on my face is razor blades cutting into flesh. “Why the fuck do you care? You just left me in there to rot.”

“You deserved it,” I remind him. “You can’t pull that shit and get away with it.”

“Get away with what? I did nothing wrong. She texted me. Told me to come over, but I’m the bad guy?”

“I saw you at her door, Bron.”

With a single kicking motion, he lunges off the mattress and stands facing me. “Why were you in my room?”

The question zaps every other thought out of my head.

“What?”

His arms fold over the worn green t-shirt. “Don’t lie.” He stabs a finger in the direction of the hockey bag I’d dropped when Everly distracted me. “I know you came in here.”

I try not to show my relief.

“I was. I was going to pack your stuff. ”

His jaw works like he’s trying to chew down steel. “You were kicking me out?”

“Are,” I correct. “I’m not supporting a man who thinks assaulting a woman is okay.”

“I never touched her.” With the swat of his palm, he sends his lamp flying across the room and shattering into the wall over the dresser. The crash is deafening but overruled by the roar of his voice. “She’s a manipulative bitch—”

“Watch it!”

He’s not listening to me. “—she asked me to come over. I did. She called the sheriff crying that I was beating down her door.”

“You were!” I snap back. “I saw you.”

“So what?” He throws up his hands. “I had every right to get pissed when she locked the door in my face.”

I stop myself from pointing out it was six in the morning. It won’t matter. He genuinely believes he’s in the right and nothing I say is going to change his mind.

“I don’t care. Get your stuff. I want you out by the end of the day.”

I expect rage. I expect him to rant and rave and break more stuff. I don’t expect the slow curl of his lips. The vile gleam lighting the emptiness behind his eyes.

“Finally fucked her, huh?”

“Bron— ”

His laugh is cold and bitter. “I wondered how long it would take before she whored herself to you. Took longer than I anticipated, honestly.”

I don’t remember closing the distance between us, but his collar is twisted in my fist, and I have his face inches from mine.

“Keep talking. You think I won’t flatten you?”

His smirk never dims. If anything, it extends as if I’ve proven his point.

“How did she feel? Was she everything you’ve been fantasizing about while jerking your meat?

The thought of touching her repulsed me, but watching your face when I did made up for the vomit in my throat.

Watching you both stare longingly at each other from a distance amused me for a long time.

Knowing I could make her do anything, give me anything I want while you watched was the highlight of those two years. ”

Every word layers a fresh coat of disgust, of loathing across my already receding affections, deepening the chasm shattering between us. Even when I shove him away from me, send him stumbling back into his computer desk, it’s not far enough from the fist I want to break into his jaw.

“What is wrong with you?” I bite out.

“You are.” His smirk dissolves back into a sneer.

“You’re what’s wrong with me. From the minute you came into my life, you ruined everything.

Me and Mom were fine. We didn’t need you.

I didn’t need you. But you pushed so hard.

You wanted so badly to ... bond,” he spits the word as if it were something foul, “I hated you. I still hate you. You’re sad and pathetic.

A disgusting pervert fucking his best friend and the little orphan whore. ”

I swing without thinking.

I don’t even register the motion until my knuckles crack across Bron’s jaw, clacking his teeth together and snapping his whole head back. It bursts the cut Van had given him the day before, sending fresh blood down his chin as he flies back into his desk.

The momentum tips the table back. It upends the cup of pens off the edge, scattering pens across the carpet. The monitor crashes over the edge and shatters.

But all I see is the face of a kid I broke my back for. The kid I didn’t even want but stepped up without hesitation or question to care for. I never asked him for anything, never pushed or demanded. I accepted him, clothed him, fed him. I put up with every tantrum, every foul mood and taunt.

But I am done.

“Get out of my house,” I grind out through gritted teeth. “Pack your shit. I don’t ever want to see you or—”

“Careful now.” He pushes up, rubbing the back of his hand across his bloody mouth.

“I saw what you fuckers were doing last night. I have a full video of you and that piece of shit friend of yours tag teaming that little whore. Never thought she’d fuck so good.

I’d have taken her for a ride if I knew she’d squirt like that. ”

I have both fists curled into the front of his top and shoving him back into the desk, flattening him.

“You followed us?”

Teeth stained crimson flash. “I headed down after I was released. I thought she’d be there alone. Imagine my surprise when I look through the window to find you in her ass while Van fucked her throat. What do you think the town will say if that video accidentally leaked?”

My grip tightens. “That won’t happen.”

“Think so?”

I could kill him, I think through the red haze of rage consuming all other thought. I could bury his body under the foundation of my next project and layer him in concrete. No one would ever find him.

“I know so,” I counter.